


Of pillows and jealousy

by twin_fics



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bilbo likes pillows, Comedy, Dwalin is ashamed of his king, Dwalin is proud of his king, Jealous Thorin, M/M, Maybe a bit too much, POV Dwalin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:12:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2193078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twin_fics/pseuds/twin_fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really, Thorin? Jealous of a pillow? Are you serious?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of pillows and jealousy

**Author's Note:**

> Dwalin's POV.  
> Un-betaed, so all the mistakes are mine ;-)

Really, Thorin? Jealous of a pillow? Are you serious?

Dwalin shook his head, ashamed by his king’s apparent inability to behave like the adult dwarf he was.

The axe master sighed.

God, he loved Thorin, really. Mahal knew he would follow the insufferable twit to the end of Arda. To the very Mount Doom if it was necessary. Hell, he would even follow him to the Undying Lands and spend the rest of his hopefully short life frolicking through the flower fields, hand to hand with those damn tree-shaggers. And if that wasn’t proof enough of his respect and devotion for his king, he didn’t know what else it could be (besides a worrying sign of incipient madness, that is).

But asking him to turn a blind eye to the stupidest behaviour his dear friend had showed to date was asking too much.

The strong warrior knew the other members of the company (or at least the ones that hadn’t known Thorin almost all their life) perceived the King Under the Mountain as a majestic character. Sometimes tragic, most of the times brooding and with zero sense of humour. Strict, dour or stubborn were adjectives that often came to mind when you described Thorin Oakenshield. But Thorin was also a brave and skilled warrior, a friend who was loyal to death when you won his respect, a ferocious defender of his kith and kin and, above everything else, a fair and caring king for his people.

Yes, his friend was that and so much more.

But what the other dwarves didn’t seem to have realized… ** _yet_** , was that in matters of love their leader was as clumsy and hopeless as any dwarfling with his first crush.

Or even clumsier, if that was possible (and look at that, seeing how Thorin was behaving right now it was indeed possible).

Regrettably, the great king seemed to have never overgrown the stage in which you pull your little crush’s braids and hide their beads to get their attention.

If it wasn’t so damn sad, Dawlin would be laughing himself silly (Fili and Kili wouldn’t have shown the same restraint, that’s for sure).

~~

It all had started the moment their leader had crossed their little burglar’s round green door. The others thought that Thorin had instantly disliked the little fellow. But Dawlin knew better. The dwarf warrior had seen his friend’s face when the king’s eyes fell for the first time on Bilbo.

Yep, that sour, slightly constipated expression was his dear friend’s trademark love-struck face (well, not everybody could be as devilishly handsome as Dawlin, could they?).

Anyway, in a truly Thorin-ish fashion, the besotted fool had immediately rushed to try to catch the little hobbit’s attention. And was there a better way to cause a good first impression than antagonizing your recently found love interest, insulting them in their very home while making a complete ass of yourself? Yep, you could guess how well it had gone.

Thorin had been heartbroken when the small fellow had unsurprisingly rejected the one in a life time chance to face a dragon and end as a little pile of ashes, but at least the hobbit would be safe surrounded by his books and his mother’s china in his comfortable home.

So his friend had been completely unprepared to the sight of the little lad chasing after them, bouncing curls and all, with the signed contract in hand.

And what did Thorin always do when something surprised him? Yep, to return to his default “scowling menacingly at everyone and everything” face. A foolproof way to make the hobbit felt welcomed and not at all intimidated by the leader of the company.

His king was hopeless.

At first Mr. Baggins had stuck to the wizard’s side, but his kind and friendly nature had promptly endeared him to the rest of the Company. Bofur, Bombur, Ori, Dori, Fili, Kili, Balin… You name it and if his name wasn’t Thorin sooner or later you would see the dwarf talking or laughing with the little hobbit (yes, even Dwalin, after all the lad always had an interesting story to share and he made the meanest rabbit stew the axe master had had the honour to eat).

Had Dwalin mentioned that his king was hopeless? Well, he was a ridiculously jealous dwarf too and seeing how easily the other members of the company took to Bilbo (and Bilbo to them) had only deteriorated Thorin’s already sullen mood.

The fright caused by the encounter with the trolls hadn’t helped either to improve his leader’s ability to ingrate himself to the hobbit (maybe in an alternate universe, frowning sourly at your crush after they had enjoyed the trilling experience of being used as a handkerchief by a troll with a running nose would comfort them greatly, who knew).

It became a pattern. Fear for your crush’s life. Frown and/or yell at the frightened hobbit. Be jealous of anyone who got too familiar with the lad. Frown and/or yell again at the now confused hobbit. Rinse and repeat.

Being chased by bloody orc riders thorough the moors? Checked.

The obvious interest of those damn tree-shaggers in their cute little hobbit (and the misguided admiration of their cute little hobbit for everything elvish in return)? Checked.

The terrifying stone giants and his rock throwing contest? Checked.

Bofur and Bilbo’s heartfelt farewell? Checked.

The cursed goblins and the hobbit’s fall to his ultimate demise in their infested caves? Checked.

The joyous acceptance of the seemingly miraculous return of his lost companion by the rest of the dwarves (and the hugs, don’t forget the hugs)? Checked.

Yep. It became rather boring pretty soon.

And then, like a hammer to the head when you were less expecting it, Azog’s sudden apparition and their hopeless escape up to the pines near the cliff. Pines that obviously hadn’t been made to support the weight of thirteen adult dwarves, one wizard and one little hobbit.

They were cursed.

Of course their king had taken that as a hint to try to improve the already impossible situation by launching a suicide attack against his nemesis, the pale orc.

It was a pity he had only succeeded in becoming the new chewing toy for Azog’s monstrous white warg.

Had Dwalin mentioned that his best friend was a moronic pain in the ass?

But against all odds, Thorin must have been doing something right in his interactions with the hobbit (had something fishy happened between them when Dwalin wasn’t looking?) because suddenly the small creature had saved the day (and the king’s life) by killing the orc that was going to cut Thorin’s head.

And look at that, after the eagles timely rescue and Gandalf’s help with Thorin’s battered body, the impossible happened. An inconsistency in the pattern!

The Hug.

Yep, with capital letters.

After that things had rapidly improved between his friend and the little hobbit. Thorin began to talk to the lad other than to chew his curly head off, timid smiles where shared, friendly pats in the back. Hell, their stern king even joked with Bilbo from time to time (Balin had almost crashed into a tree the first time it had happened).

And the hobbit had only needed to save Thorin’s life to achieve that, duh.

Dwalin was proud of his king.

~~

Dwalin was ashamed of his king.

It was a hard thing to say about his best friend but, nonetheless, it had to be said.

If being dead wasn't an unavoidable prerequisite, Dwalin would be rolling in his tomb, seeing how his king was behaving right now.

Feeling safe for the first time in a long time and completely full after the delicious dinner that the skin-changer beastly friends had served them (even if said dinner had been appallingly short on meat the axe master had to admit that those where the most incredible honey cakes he had ever eaten), the rest of the company had decided to go to sleep immediately, making good use of the beds provided.

And none of them had been happier than the hobbit when he had realized that not only linen was provided for those aforementioned beds but pillows. Pillows! Big, fluffy, wonderful pillows! (Bilbo’s joyous exclamation, not Dawlin's).

Mr. Baggins ought to have missed having proper pillows during their adventure dreadfully, if the fierce way in which he had pushed the startled dwarves out of his way to reach them was any clue.  

As if he were the tiniest and fluffiest dragon that had ever existed, their hobbit had proceeded to hoard three of the biggest pillows to make a nest (really, it couldn’t be described in any other way) for himself in one of the corners of the room.

The rest of the company had prudently decided to arrange their bedding a little far away.

All but one dwarf, their fearless leader… who was currently engaged in a furious glaring contest with one of the hobbit’s pillows (Dwalin didn’t delude himself into thinking that the pillow was participating in any way in that contest, for starters it didn‘t have eyes).

It was true that Bilbo had been inordinately excited about the pillows but that wasn‘t a excuse for the dwarf king to be jealous.Of.A.Pillow.

Really. Even if their burglar had nuzzled and petted them to his little heart content before falling asleep. A bit of cooing may or may not have been involved. And what if the lad was now hugging one of them? Enthusiastically. With his arms and his legs. (Hey, look at that, Bilbo The Pillow’s Molester, maybe Thorin was onto something after all).

Dwalin observed his king preparing his strategy against those three terrible foes (he seemed to have remembered at last that pillows, and inanimate objects in general, were unfazed by any amount of glaring you directed at them). Thorin couldn’t take the pillow the hobbit was using as an actual pillow without awakening the little fellow. The one Bilbo was currently hugging was out of question too. Aha! It seemed that his friend had decided to focus his efforts on the weakest of the three. The pillow the hobbit had kept behind him.

Thorin approached the hobbit’s nest with a stealth that even Nori would have envied. Carefully, he reached for the solitary pillow and faster than a snake, he throw it over his shoulder (it landed on Oín, who fortunately didn’t even notice it), and took its place beside Bilbo. And then their leader only had to wait with bated breath for his body heat to lure the asleep hobbit…

Success!!!

The hobbit, sensing a better bed-mate within his proximity, latched onto Thorin.

Dwalin sighed, admitting reluctantly his admiration for his best friend’s perseverance. Their leader was going to be insufferably smug in the morning, but the axe master wondered if Thorin had thought about how he was going to explain the new bedding arrangement to the hobbit. Maybe he had decided to enjoy his triumph and not to worry about it until morning. Maybe he hadn’t even thought about it. Or maybe…

A sudden yelp startled Dwalin out of his thoughts.

The warrior dwarf turned towards the source of the sound, his axe in hand, ready to defend his king against any foe… to almost fell from his chair with the force of his giggles (manly giggles, of course).

It seemed that Bilbo was very happy with having Thorin as a pillow because now the hobbit was hugging their leader.

Enthusiastically.

With his arms and his legs.

And his knee rubbing the dwarf king’s… jewels.

Smiling so broadly that his face started to hurt, Dwalin wondered how was Thorin going to explain **that**?


End file.
